


take me as i am

by Spikedluv



Category: Blood Books - Tanya Huff, Blood-Smoke Series - Tanya Huff, Smoke Series - Tanya Huff
Genre: Biting, Community: smallfandomfest, Death of OC, Gen, Underage Prostitution, violence implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU meeting between Henry and Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me as i am

**Author's Note:**

> Written for smallfandomfest using the prompt: Blood and Smoke series (Tanya Huff), Henry & or / Tony, Henry finds Tony first (before he meets Vicki). Title from David Cook’s ‘Take Me As I Am’.
> 
> Warnings: References to underage prostitution and violence; death of an OC; biting.
> 
> Written: January 12, 2012

Tony ducked down the alley, a shortcut to the abandoned warehouse he’d been flopping in for the past couple of nights since the weather turned bitter. He kept his head down -- partly against the cold, and partly because it was safest to pretend not to see anything that happened in that part of town – and his senses alert for danger. Tony heard a soft moan. He knew all about sex in dark alleys, so he stared hard at the garbage littering the ground and hurried his pace. His steps faltered when a low growl made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Despite his best judgment (and the very expensive lessons he’d learned since running away from home), Tony couldn’t help raising his eyes to see what had made that sound. His eyes slid past expensive boots and a black leather duster until they rested upon a face that Tony might normally have considered beautiful if the lips weren’t currently curled up in a snarl. Tony tried to concentrate on the strawberry blond hair framing hazel eyes, but the blood on the man’s – thing’s – lips, and the fangs dripping red, filled Tony’s mind.

“Forget that you saw this,” the man (Tony refused to call him a vampire despite the proof of his own eyes, and all the other freaky stuff he’d seen while living on the streets) commanded.

“No problem,” Tony muttered and hurried past, as if his feet had been released from cement by the man’s words.

Tony didn’t even spare a glance for the man still pinned against the wall. He wasn’t callous, just a survivor. However, no matter what he’d promised, Tony couldn’t forget what he’d seen. He was used to seeing (and ignoring) things that would make the normal person’s hair curl – drug deals gone bad, prostitutes beaten by their pimp or john, muggings, and murders. He’d even seen things in the shadows that no one else saw – or were willing to admit they’d seen. But this, Tony couldn’t forget.

He went back to the alley late the next afternoon, but in the waning light of day there was no evidence of what Tony had witnessed. No body, no crime scene tape, not even a drop of blood. He even checked the papers to see if a body had been discovered, but there was no mention of one, so either that . . . guy hadn’t killed the person he was . . . with the night before, or he’d hidden the body really, really well.

Three days went by and no body with puncture wounds in its neck surfaced. Tony got stiffed by a john who gave him a bloody lip before taking off, and chased from his street corner by a pimp wanting to expand his territory. The corner had been good to Tony, but he wasn’t crazy enough to fight for it. Tony had too much other stuff to worry about to think too hard on the fact that a vampire might be running loose in Toronto.

Until the night the vampire came looking for him. Tony’d been walking down the street, heading for his new spot, when he heard one of the other street kids, Matty, seductively (well, as seductively as a 14-year-old boy could) ask someone if they wanted company.

“I’m waiting for someone,” the man replied.

Tony’s blood ran cold. He recognized that voice. Though he’d only heard it speak five words to him, those five words were indelibly imprinted on his brain. Tony slowly raised his head until his eyes met those of the vampire (at this point Tony decided to call a spade a spade) he’d seen in the alley that night.

He looked like an ordinary man, and Tony could almost be fooled into thinking that there was nothing different about him. Except he’d seen the fangs, and the blood, and he couldn’t forget that.

“You remember me,” the vampire said. It wasn’t a question, but he sounded surprised by it, as if he’d actually thought that Tony could forget something like that.

“Would you believe me if I said I’d never seen you before in my life?”

The vampire didn’t smile, but Tony got the distinct impression that he was amused.

“Come with me,” the vampire said, and proceeded to walk past Tony and down the sidewalk, as if he expected Tony to fall into line beside – or behind – him.

Tony turned and watched the vampire take a few steps, then said, “I have to work. Besides, I don’t think being alone with you is such a good idea.”

The vampire paused his steps and turned to face Tony. “I’ll pay you for your time,” he said. “And if I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it at any time over the past three nights. Abandoned warehouses aren’t really all that safe.”

For a second Tony felt like he couldn’t breathe. The vampire knew where he lived – well, where he stayed. “Better than the street,” Tony said belligerently, hoping to hide his fear.

The vampire’s forehead creased and he looked like he was trying to figure something out. When his expression cleared, all he said was, “I only want to talk. I’ll even feed you.”

Tony wasn’t afraid (much), but he wasn’t stupid either. He didn’t want to go anyplace where he’d be alone with the vampire, but the mention of food brought him up short. It wasn’t often that he got a hot meal; most of his meals were scraps he’d found in dumpsters, unless he had enough left over after scoring the drugs that made life on the streets bearable to afford something else.

“Anything I want?” Tony said, not unaccustomed to negotiating.

“Anything you want,” the vampire agreed.

“Where?” Tony said, even as he took a step towards the vampire.

“There’s a diner down the street.”

Tony relaxed a bit more when he realized that the vampire wanted to talk to him in a public place. Not that he was fooled into believing he was safe; the vampire could drag him into an alley and break his neck before anyone knew what he had done. Or anyone who cared enough to call the police stumbled upon his body.

Tony knew the diner the vampire spoke of, but he looked past him anyway, as if he could see it from where he stood. “They don’t like us to come in there,” Tony said.

“Us?”

Tony didn’t say anything, just held out his arms to indicate himself, a filthy drug user slash hustler.

“They won’t say anything,” the vampire assured him.

Tony shrugged and started walking. “It’s your dime, man.”

He stayed on the street side of the vampire, not wanting to be dragged into an alley, then realized that it would be just as easy for the vampire to shove him out in front of an oncoming car.

“What are you thinking?”

“How easy it would be for you to kill me,” Tony answered without thinking about it.

“I don’t kill people,” the vampire said, then added. “Unless they really annoy me.”

“Funny,” Tony said.

They walked in silence for a few moments, then the vampire said, “My name is Henry.”

Henry, Tony thought, glad to have a name so he wouldn’t have to keep calling him ‘the vampire’ in his head.

“It’s customary for you to now tell me _your_ name,” the vampire, no, Henry said.

Tony thought about the wisdom of that for a moment, then decided that there was no reason not to tell him. “Tony.”

“Tony,” Henry repeated. “We’re here.”

Henry opened the door and held it for Tony. The heat from inside the diner washed over him as he walked in ahead of Henry. The waitress glanced up at them with a smile on her face that fell off when she saw Tony. She stepped towards them purposefully, but Henry spoke before she could throw them out.

“We’d like a booth in the back,” Henry said.

Tony watched the changes as various expressions crossed the waitress’s face. Determination fell off to be replaced by confusion, and then a blankness before she offered them a smile that looked like it didn’t sit quite right on her face.

“Right this way,” she said, and led the way to a booth where they’d have some privacy for their talk.

Henry sat with his back to the wall, the door in plain view. Tony slid into the booth across from him. The waitress placed two menus on the table.

“Can I get you anything to drink while you decide?”

“I already know what I want,” Tony said, not even glancing at the menu. He darted a look at Henry, just to confirm that he could order anything he wanted, and Henry gave him a barely perceptible nod. “Cheeseburger, french fries, and a strawberry milkshake. And a piece of pie. Lemon meringue.”

“And you?”

Tony was relieved when the waitress turned her attention to Henry. He was afraid to look up until she was gone in case Henry told him he’d ordered too much. Henry ordered a cup of coffee, which did make Tony look up.

“I’ve already eaten,” Henry said easily, and Tony’s eyes widened when he realized what Henry meant. Once again Tony got the impression that Henry was amused by him.

“Lemon meringue,” Henry said, and Tony braced himself. “I took you more for . . . cherry.”

“They don’t have any cherry in the case,” Tony said before he could censor himself. He’d looked.

Henry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He opened his eyes and looked right at Tony with a gaze so intense Tony thought that Henry might be able to see right through him. “They have some cherry pie in the back. I could have them bring it out for you.”

Tony ignored the offer, more impressed by the fact that Henry had sussed that out. “You could _smell_ that?”

“Yes,” Henry said matter-of-factly.

Tony wondered if Henry’s sense of smell was how he’d tracked him to the warehouse. He looked at the dirt caked under his fingernails and the grime on his jeans, and wondered what he smelled like to Henry.

“Yes,” Henry said when the waitress left them again after placing his coffee in front of him and informing Tony that his milkshake was coming right up. “You could use a shower.”

“Bite me,” Tony said, then went still as a rabbit hiding from a circling eagle when he realized what he’d said.

The sound he heard just then was strange, and it took Tony a moment to realize that Henry had bitten off a laugh. When he looked up, any trace of laughter was gone from Henry’s mouth, but his eyes still danced with mirth.

Tony didn’t mention his faux pas or Henry’s momentary lapse, but he did notice that Henry hadn’t touched his coffee. “Are you going to drink that?”

Henry glanced down, as if he’d forgotten the cup was there. “No.”

Tony’s fingers ached to reach for the cup, but he held them back. At least until Henry pushed the cup over to him. Tony curled his fingers around the warm cup and just breathed in the fragrant scent.

When Tony’s milkshake came he sipped it sparingly, not wanting to finish it before his meal came, and kept his hands wrapped around the cup of coffee. It was difficult to make himself savor the drink – he’d grown accustomed to fighting for everything he had, and had learned the hard way that saving anything for ‘later’ was just an invitation to be attacked and robbed. He was unused to anyone giving him something for nothing, even a cup of coffee to keep his hands warm.

“What do you want?” Tony asked again, wondering if Henry would tell him the truth now.

Henry raised an eyebrow. “I told you; to talk.”

“Why?”

“Because you know something about me that no other living person does.”

Tony’s heart started to beat fast at that comment. Henry hadn’t sounded like he was issuing a threat, and yet Tony knew somehow that if Henry thought that he was a threat, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Law of the streets, as well as the jungle.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Tony said.

Henry gazed levelly at him.

Tony shrugged. “Who would believe me?”

The waitress set Tony’s plate in front of him, asked if they needed anything else, and then scurried away with an audible sigh of relief, as if she could sense that Henry was a dangerous predator. Tony figured that if he was going to die tonight, it might as well be on a full stomach, and dug in. Tony glanced up once to see Henry watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?” Tony said around a mouthful of fries.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.”

“About what?” Tony said as he stuffed more fries in his mouth, just to be aggravating.

“That you haven’t choked yet.”

“I’ve got a pretty good gag reflex,” Tony said, refusing to be ashamed of what he had to do to survive, but not above using it to try and make Henry uncomfortable. “Want me to show you?”

Henry raised an eyebrow. Tony wondered if he’d ever be able to do that.

“I just want to talk,” Henry repeated with more patience than Tony had expected. “Besides, I don’t enjoy sex with children.”

“I’m not a child!” Tony declared. “I’m seventeen,” he lied.

“More like fourteen,” Henry said.

“Fifteen!” Tony admitted, annoyed at having been judged so young, even if looking young on the streets got you more money and more customers.

“Finish your burger,” Henry said, then smirked as if he knew Tony was torn between finishing it, which he really wanted to do, and pushing it away just to be contrary.

“I was going to, anyway,” Tony muttered and bit angrily into the burger.

Tony chewed in silence for a few minutes. “What about the guy?” Tony said, waiting until he’d swallowed to speak this time. “From the other night.”

“What about him?”

“You said I was the only one alive who knew about . . . .” Tony gestured.

“Maybe I killed him,” Henry said.

“You said you don’t kill,” Tony pointed out, as if Henry’s assurance was to be relied upon.

“Maybe he annoyed me,” Henry retorted.

Tony snorted a laugh. “You haven’t killed me, yet.” And he’d been _trying_ to be annoying. He couldn’t help it; it was a reflex.

“Operative word,” Henry said dryly. “Yet.”

Tony just grinned, unconcerned, and took another bite of the burger.

~*~*~*~

Two nights went by before Tony saw Henry again, though he’d sensed someone following him, watching him. Henry shoved a steaming cup of coffee into Tony’s hands. His fingers were so chilled, despite blowing on them and tucking them inside his jacket, that Tony had trouble curling them around the cup.

“It’s going to snow,” Henry said.

Tony glanced up at the clear sky as he took a sip of the . . . hot chocolate. Instead of commenting on the drink, he said, “How do you know?”

Henry just raised an eyebrow. Tony was getting pretty sick of that.

“He’s driving away business,” Matty complained in a whisper to Tony that Tony was pretty sure Henry could hear anyway. He kept his eyes down, not looking directly at Henry. Even Matty knew a predator when he saw one.

By the time Tony looked back at Henry, to tell him that he was indeed scaring away business, Henry was gone.

“He moves too quiet,” Matty said, voicing Tony’s own thoughts.

When Tony got back to the warehouse that night, his shoulders and head covered with the snow that had started falling, there was a thick, fluffy comforter neatly folded on the spot Tony had claimed for his own. The surprise wasn’t that there was a warm blanket waiting for him (Who knew that vampires could be such mother hens?), but that it was still sitting there. Tony felt avaricious eyes on him from the darkness, and he wondered what Henry had said or done to make them afraid to steal something as precious as a blanket when no one had been there to defend it.

~*~

Henry started showing up more frequently. He often brought Tony a hot drink, and sometimes something to eat – a sandwich, a Big Mac, or a slice of pizza. He’d stay long enough to say a few words and make sure Tony was alright before disappearing into the night. A couple of times he took Tony back to the diner for a hot meal and they talked.

“What do you do?” Tony had asked one night. “I mean, for a living.”

“I write,” Henry answered as he watched Tony play with the sugar packets. “This decade, anyway.”

“Write, like, what, stories?”

“Yes, Tony, stories.”

“What kind of stories?” Tony asked, curious.

“Fiction.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “What kind of fiction?” When Henry didn’t answer right away, Tony began to throw out guesses. “Mysteries? Sci fi? No, I know, those supernatural fantasy books, about vampires and werewolves. Hey, are werewolves real, too?” Tony leaned across the table and whispered.

Tony grinned at the now clearly _un_ amused expression on Henry’s face. “Okay, we’ll save that for another time. So, what, come on, tell me! It can’t be that bad, can it? I mean, what, romance?”

When Henry didn’t say anything, Tony said, “No, seriously.”

When Henry _still_ didn’t say anything, Tony said, “Wow, seriously? I never would have guessed.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Henry said, ignoring the grin on Tony’s face.

~*~

The cut on Tony’s lip ripped open each time he spoke or tried to smile, and his ribs were killing him where steel toed boots had connected. The pain was annoying, but even more frustrating was the fact that he was losing business because of it. To add insult to injury, Henry showed up that night.

There was fire in Henry’s eyes when he reached out and grabbed Tony’s chin, gently turning his face so he could see the cut and bruises more clearly. “What happened?” he growled.

Beside Tony, Matty whimpered. Tony wanted to. Instead he pushed his shoulders back and said, “It’s fine, Henry.”

“Tell me what happened,” Henry said, staring intently into Tony’s eyes as if he could compel him to speak.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Where?”

“Last night, at the Y.” Tony went there to shower once in a while. This time he’d been jumped by a couple of guys who threatened to ‘pass him around’. Tony didn’t have anything against sex, not even sex with more than one person, but he did have a problem with not getting paid for it. He’d fought his way free, but not without taking some damage. And he’d never gotten his shower, either, which pissed him off more than the cuts and bruises.

“Who did this to you?”

“Henry . . . .”

“Tony,” Henry interrupted, his tone deceptively reasonable. “Please tell me who did this to you so that I can make sure they never do it again.”

Tony was tempted, so very tempted to tell Henry, to let Henry take care of this problem for him. Instead he reminded himself that he lived on the streets because you couldn’t trust anyone, not even the people who were supposed to love you and take care of you. “I can take care of myself,” Tony said.

Henry nodded, as if he’d expected that answer. He leaned down and sniffed at Tony and slid his hand beneath Tony’s jacket to tenderly probe his ribs. “Cracked two of them,” Henry proclaimed.

Tony swore as pain blossomed in his side. “No shit.”

Henry backed away from Tony, then held the cup he’d brought out to Matty. Matty, hand shaking, took it from him.

“Real mature, Henry,” Tony said as Henry walked away.

Matty held the cup out to Tony. “Do you, um, want it?”

“Nah,” Tony said as he watched Matty shiver beneath the light jacket he wore. “You need it more than I do.”

~*~

“Did you kill them?” Tony asked the next time he saw Henry.

“Who?” Henry asked, handing one of the cups he carried to Tony, the other to Matty.

“Don’t play dumb,” Tony said, keeping one eye on the street and the other on Henry. “I know you went looking for them, those guys.”

“I don’t kill people,” Henry reminded him.

“Unless they annoy you,” Tony corrected as he sipped the hot chocolate, trying not to look as grateful for it as he felt.

Matty held onto his cup as if he was afraid to drink from it. “Drink it before it gets cold,” Tony told him gently.

“Come with me,” Henry told Tony imperiously, and then turned and walked away.

“I’m working here,” Tony said, not bothering to raise his voice, knowing that Henry could hear him.

“I’ll pay you for your time,” Henry said.

Tony grinned at the annoyance in his voice. He started to follow Henry, then wondered what he was doing. Why did he go with Henry whenever he asked? On the other hand, why should he question easy money? He was able to talk with Henry inside a warm diner and he got a free meal, and he still got paid for his time. Where was the downside?

Tony picked up his pace until he caught up with Henry. He stared open mouthed at the diner as they walked past it, gestured with the cup he held. “Aren’t we stopping?”

“No,” Henry said.

“You’re not going to make me identify the bodies, are you?” Tony joked. Mostly.

“I don’t need you to identify them, no,” Henry said.

Which wasn’t really all that reassuring.

“You didn’t kill them, did you, really?”

“No,” Henry said, and Tony believed him. “But I’m sure they wish I had,” he added.

Tony shivered at the tone in Henry’s voice. He didn’t want to know what that meant. Nor did he want to think about _why_ Henry had done whatever it was that he’d done.

Eventually they came to a high rise apartment building. Henry led them in through the front door. He paused when he reached the security guard sitting at the front desk. Henry greeted him, then said, “Greg, this is my friend Tony. He’ll be visiting me on occasion. If I’m not in, would you please make sure he can get in?”

“Of course, Mr. Fitzroy,” Greg said, his tone respectful though Tony could see the questions in his eyes.

Fitzroy, Tony thought to himself. Henry Fitzroy. Henry had trusted Tony with his name, where he lived, and what he was. Why would he do that, Tony wondered, but he silently followed Henry to the elevator and remained quiet on the ride up to the fourteenth floor. He followed Henry down the hallway and into his condo.

“So, what am I doing here?” Tony asked nervously as he surveyed the condo. It was nicely furnished without being too fancy to enjoy. “Change your mind about having sex with me?”

“No,” Henry said as if Tony wasn’t trying to bait him. “I’m going to order dinner; you’re going to take a shower.”

Tony followed Henry to the guest bathroom. Towels were laid out, along with a change of clothes that looked like they’d come from a second hand store. “I don’t need charity,” Tony said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by Henry’s generosity.

Henry raised that infuriating eyebrow. “You’ll let me pay you to talk with me, but you won’t accept a shower someplace where you’re safe from being jumped and beaten?”

When Henry put it like that, Tony felt a little bit ridiculous, but being paid to talk, that was business, this . . . this was something else that Tony didn’t want to think too hard about. You accepted the drinks, Tony’s traitorous mind reminded him. And the food, and the blanket.

“Take the shower, Tony,” Henry said, and then left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Tony reached out and touched the jeans. They were used, but not worn. No rips or tears, but not new, which would get him singled out on the streets. If you had something too nice, someone always wanted to take it away from you.

Tony pushed back the shower curtain and reached in to turn on the water. He took off his clothes, almost embarrassed to let them fall on the clean floor. Tony stepped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed. He stood under the spray, just letting the water hit him and run down his skin, taking dirt and cares with it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to take a leisurely shower, not having to worry about someone sneaking in to steal his clothes, or to beat him while he was vulnerable just because they could.

Tony opened the bottle of shampoo and sniffed it before using it on his hair. The bottle was full, so either it was just for show, or Henry had bought it just for Tony. The thought that a vampire cared for him more than his parents had made Tony’s eyes burn. He shook off the melancholy and soaped up his hair.

~*~

When Tony came out of the bathroom, dressed in the clean clothes Henry had gotten him, the scent of food tickled his nose.

“Just in time,” Henry said, glancing at Tony as he set a plate on the coffee table. “Food just arrived. I hope you like Chinese.”

“Chinese is fine,” Tony said, walking over to Henry.

“Sit,” Henry said, indicating the leather sofa.

“Are you eating?” Tony asked as he sat.

“I don’t eat regular food,” Henry said as he sat beside Tony.

“Oh. I can’t eat all this!”

Henry snorted, which wasn’t something Tony thought Henry would ever do. He was too . . . proper. For a vampire that brought Tony hot drinks and beat up the guys who’d beaten _him_ up.

“We’ll see,” Henry said. “Why don’t you turn on the television and find something good to watch.”

Tony took the remote Henry handed him, thumbed on the television, then scrolled through the channels until he found an episode of _Ironside_. Tony loved tv shows and movies, especially the old black and white ones. When he was younger, he’d dreamed about becoming a director. He tried not to think about things like that anymore.

Tony dished up some of the Chinese food as he got lost in watching Raymond Burr on the screen.

When Tony woke up the sun was shining. He was lying on the sofa, covered with the blanket that had been thrown over the back. Tony couldn’t believe that he’d fallen asleep on Henry’s sofa. The last thing he remembered was turning the channel to a station that showed classic movies and asking Henry if he’d ever dressed like that.

Tony looked around, but there was no sign of Henry. Of course there wasn’t, he reminded himself. Even though they’d never said the word out loud, Henry was a vampire. A creature of the night. Tony stood and folded the blanket, laying it across the back of the couch.

There was a clean jacket lying over the arm of the couch. Warmer than his own jean jacket, but clearly used. Just to be contrary Tony left it lying there and went looking for his own thin jacket. He poked his head into the bathroom, which had clearly been picked up after his shower. The wet towels were missing, as were his dirty clothes.

Henry had emptied out the pockets and left the contents beside the sink – a mint, the key to a house he’d never return to, and a couple of crumpled dollar bills. Tony counted the cash; it was all there, plus the additional Henry owed him for his time last night. Tony almost felt guilty for taking Henry’s money after he’d gotten a shower, clean clothes, and a hot meal out of it, but not guilty enough to leave the money behind.

Since he was already in the bathroom, Tony relieved himself, then washed up at the sink. That, at least, was familiar – he’d washed up in more restaurant and gas station restrooms than he could count. When he stepped out of the bathroom Tony gave in to the urge to snoop. He found a guest bedroom and another room that had a closed door. Tony tried the handle; it was locked. Probably Henry’s room. Tony continued on and found a spotless kitchen that looked like it didn’t get much use, and an office. Tony took a cautious step over the threshold. There were shelves filled with books; not all of which had been printed in this century. Tony walked over and perused the titles. He found a section that held a dozen or so trashy romance novels written by Elizabeth Fitzroy.

Fitzroy, Tony thought. That was Henry’s last name. He selected one of the books and read the author blurb. There was no picture, but the description sounded like a sanitized, if gender-crossed, version of Henry. Grinning, Tony flipped the book open and started reading at a random spot. He chuckled as he imagined Henry sitting at his desk, writing about heaving bosoms.

Tony went to return the book to the shelf, then thought better of it. He set the book in the center of the blotter on Henry’s desk, making sure he’d see it. Henry probably had some freaky way of telling that Tony had been in his office, but for some reason Tony wanted Henry to know he’d seen the books.

Tony grabbed the jacket off the couch on his way to the door.

~*~*~*~

“How did you know not to buy new clothes? For me, I mean,” Tony asked Henry as he basked in the scents filling the restaurant.

“I’ve had a lot of practice blending in,” Henry told him.

Tony played with the pasta on his plate. Tonight Henry had taken him out for Italian.

“How old are you?” Tony asked.

“Older than you,” Henry said. “Now finish your dinner.”

Tony was still curious, so the next day he went to the public library. His clothes were still clean enough to get him in without too many looks. Tony wasn’t really sure why he was there. What were the chances that the library would have anything on Henry, if that was even his real name? He approached one of the aides and asked for help looking up ‘Henry Fitzroy’.

Her face lit up with interest. “Oh! The bastard son of King Henry VIII,” she said, walking away before she could see the shocked expression on Tony’s face. “Are you doing a report for school?”

“Something like that,” Tony said, and followed her into the stacks.

~*~

The next time Tony saw Henry he was jumpy. The information he’d learned at the library about Henry Fitzroy rattled around inside his head. He hadn’t really thought he’d find anything, but now that he had Tony felt guilty for going behind Henry’s back. He couldn’t help staring at Henry’s face, and then glancing away when Henry looked at him.

“What’s wrong?” Henry said.

Tony hunched up his shoulders defensively. “Nothing.”

“Something,” Henry said, but he didn’t push.

Finally Tony said, “What do you do when you’re mad at someone?”

“Tear their arm off and beat them over the head with it,” Henry said immediately.

Tony’s heart leapt in his chest, and then he saw the quirk of Henry’s lips. “Funny,” he muttered.

“What did you do that you think will make me mad?”

“I . . . went to the library,” Tony admitted. “And did some research. About Henry Fitzroy. I swear, I didn’t really think I’d find anything, but . . . .”

“But you did.”

“Sorry,” Tony said. “I shouldn’t have . . . .”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Henry said. “Next time you want to know something, just ask me.”

“Will you answer?”

“Maybe. If I feel comfortable sharing the information. We both have a right to privacy, Tony.”

Tony nodded. “If it makes you feel any better I also did some research on Elizabeth Fitzroy when I was there.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Henry said.

Tony grinned.

~*~

A couple nights later Tony found Matty on their corner looking very uncomfortable, huddled inside his jacket.

“New jacket,” Tony commented. “It looks warm.”

Matty looked even more uncomfortable and Tony wondered whether he thought Tony might try to steal it. Law of the streets: if someone had something you wanted, you took it.

“Your friend gave it to me,” Matty said. “I didn’t want to take it, but he’s scary.”

That answered that question. Tony nodded. Henry could be very scary. He patted Matty’s shoulder. “His bark is worse than his bite,” he assured him.

Tony wished he could believe his own words, but he’d seen Henry’s face when Tony had been hurt. He figured Henry’s bite was pretty bad.

Matty pulled his hand out of the pocket it was stuffed into. “He wanted me to give you these.”

“Um, thanks.” Tony took the box of condoms and stuffed it into his own pocket. He wondered what had made Henry decide to give him condoms.

“What’s with the condoms?” Tony asked Henry while they were sitting on Henry’s couch. He was eating the soup and sandwich (and eyeing up the pie) that Henry’d had delivered while Tony was in the shower, listening to the TV drone in the background.

“I want you to be safe,” Henry said, frowning at the page of his latest story he was currently editing.

“I am safe,” Tony said. And he was. Mostly. Sometimes he ran out of condoms and couldn’t afford them.

Henry didn’t respond.

“What brought this on?”

Henry didn’t answer right away, but Tony waited. Finally Henry sighed and lowered the page he’d been reading.

“Matty’s sick.”

It took Tony a few seconds to wrap his head around Henry’s statement because he didn’t know what Matty had to do with this, except Matty was sick, and Henry wanted Tony to be careful.

“How sick?”

“Very sick. He’s going to die.”

Tony dropped the rest of his sandwich onto the plate, suddenly not very hungry. He and Matty weren’t friends; you didn’t make friends on the streets. Acquaintances, at best; two street kids that shared a corner. He didn’t know anything about Matty, not even whether Matty was his real name. And yet Tony felt a deep sadness at the thought of Matty being sick, dying. Tony blamed Henry’s interference in his life for the fact that he cared at all.

“How do you know?”

“I smelled the disease on him,” Henry said.

“You could be wrong,” Tony insisted.

Henry didn’t say anything, but Tony knew that Henry wasn’t wrong. Tony pushed the plate away and leaned back into the couch, staring unseeing at the television screen.

“Use the condoms,” Henry said. “Please. And use clean needles. If you can’t get them from the clinic, tell me. I’ll get them for you.”

Tony jolted at that. He hadn’t realized that Henry knew he used. “You’re not going to tell me to stop?”

“Would it work?”

No. Even if he wanted to, Tony thought it might be too late. Nobody lasted on the streets completely straight and sober. There was always something you needed to forget, whether it was what you were running from, or what you found when you got where you were running to. Though, if Tony were honest with himself, he’d been using less since he’d met Henry. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that a vampire entering his life made it suck a little bit less. Ha, suck! Tony thought.

It wasn’t until Tony left Henry’s condo the next morning that it hit him – Henry cared about him. He wasn’t a project, because Henry hadn’t tried to fix him, or change him, merely been there with a hot drink, a warm meal . . . someone to talk to. It felt kind of nice, knowing there was someone who’d care if anything happened to him. Still, Tony couldn’t help wondering what Henry got out of it, and why he’d chosen Tony to care about.

~*~

As the weather turned even colder, Henry insisted that Tony come to his condo for a shower more often – which meant he got a hot meal and a night on Henry’s sofa instead of on the streets where, despite the comforter Henry had given him (though Tony had never asked, and Henry had never told), Tony would shiver all night, sometimes unable to fall asleep because he was so cold.

Even so, he resisted going to Henry’s too often, not wanting to get used to it. Just when he started to expect Henry’s generosity, rely on it, it could be torn away. Which made Tony realize how much he’d miss Henry if that happened. Not just the clean showers and nights watching television, but Henry.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Henry said one night.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Tony said, “how quickly things can be taken away from you.” His full belly and the warmth of Henry’s condo made him sleepy and comfortable, and therefore more honest than he otherwise might have been.

“You’re thinking about Matty?” Henry said.

Tony didn’t correct him.

Henry distracted Tony with pie, and then asked him a question about the movie they’d only partially been paying attention to. Tony spent the next ten minutes telling Henry how the director had set up a certain scene to foreshadow the climax of the movie. They’d seen the movie – well, bits and pieces of it – several times, but Henry never complained when Tony stopped flicking through the channels when he came upon it again.

“Can I read one of your books?” Tony asked Henry on another night.

“I don’t know,” Henry said distractedly as he scratched out something he’d written and wrote something in the margin. “Can you?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “May I? Your majesty,” he added to be a wise ass, which earned him a look.

“They might be a little tame for you,” Henry commented without rancor or judgment.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. “I don’t get to see many heaving bosoms in my line of work.”

Henry smiled. “You might want to start with something recent. There was a bit of a learning curve.”

Tony gasped theatrically. “You mean you weren’t perfect right out the gate?”

~*~

Three nights later Tony found Henry with a gunshot wound. It was Henry’s night to stop by to see him, and when he didn’t show at his usual time, Tony at first figured that Henry had forgotten, or that something had come up. It was easy for Tony to believe that he could be forgotten, or that Henry could’ve found something better to do than hang out with him. But the later it got, the more Tony worried. Because Henry wasn’t the type of person to do that. Even if he was a vampire, and not technically a person.

Finally Tony gave up on waiting (his frown was scaring away customers, anyway), and headed for Henry’s condo. Greg wasn’t thrilled to see him, but he let Tony go up without a hassle. The door was opened soon after Tony knocked, but he hesitated before entering.

“Um, you expecting someone?” Tony said, eyeing the dark blue robe Henry wore over a matching pair of lounge pants, both of which looked to Tony’s untrained eye like silk.

“No,” Henry said. He started to grin, but it turned into a grimace. “Come in.”

“You always answer the door like that?” Tony asked as he stepped inside the condo.

“I knew it was you.”

“Oh.” Tony still couldn’t get used to the fact that Henry could track scents better than the mutt he’d had growing up.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asked, though not unkindly.

“I was worried about you,” Tony said without censoring himself, too busy watching Henry walk over to the couch and lower himself to sit upon it with less than his usual grace. Clearly he was right to be worried.

“Sorry I didn’t make it tonight,” Henry said.

“What happened?” Tony said, sitting gingerly on the edge of the sofa, still worried without knowing why. Henry was acting strange.

“Something came up,” Henry said.

Tony’s first reaction was hurt. He’d known that he wasn’t important enough in Henry’s life to come first. He hadn’t come first with his mother, why would . . . ? Tony paused in his self-pity when he noticed the tight lines around Henry’s eyes.

“What?”

“What?” Henry repeated with a frown.

“What came up?”

Henry shifted stiffly on the couch, favoring his right side. Tony reached for the collar of Henry’s robe, but Henry grabbed his wrist before he could touch it.

“Let me see,” Tony said softly.

“It’s nothing,” Henry said.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”

Henry rolled his eyes, but he released Tony and let him pull the robe aside. The wound had been cleaned up, but it was clearly a bullet wound.

“You’ve been shot,” Tony said, stating the obvious. “Did this happen tonight?”

“Yes,” Henry said, pulling the robe out of Tony’s fingers and covering the wound. “It’s healing.”

The wound looked like it had been healing for several days, rather than several hours. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course it bloody hurts!” Henry said. “I’ve been shot!”

Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“What?” Henry said, sounding put out.

“Nothing, it’s just, you’re a vampire. I though you’d be, I don’t know, more stoic.”

“How about I shoot you and we see how stoic you are?” Henry suggested.

Tony couldn’t hold back his laughter at that. “Note to self,” he said when he caught his breath and could speak. “Getting shot makes Henry cranky.”

“I’m not cranky,” Henry said, “I’m . . . .”

“You’re what?”

Henry didn’t answer right away, so Tony used his own brain to see if he could figure it out. Henry was a vampire with a really cool ability to heal, but healing probably took reserves the body would normally use for other things, like walking, or turning into a bat. (Tony would have to ask Henry if he could actually do that). With his reserves low, Henry would have to replenish them. And in Henry’s case that meant he needed blood.

“Hungry,” Tony said. Apparently Henry also got cranky when he needed to feed, but Tony wasn’t crazy enough to say that out loud. “You need blood.”

“I’m fine,” Henry said. “I’ll get something later.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony said. “You need something now and I’m right here. You can take mine.”

Tony wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised by the offer. “Not all of it, of course. Some of it.”

Henry smiled and reached out to touch Tony’s shoulder. “Thank you, Tony. I appreciate the offer, but you need your blood more than I do.”

“What, my blood’s not good enough?” Tony said, wondering if maybe his blood really wasn’t good enough.

“Your blood is fine,” Henry said. “Better than fine. I don’t want you to think I expect that of you . . . .”

“You don’t expect anything of me,” Tony said, the realization hitting him suddenly. “Is that what you like, a one-sided relationship where you give and give and get nothing in return?”

“That’s not true,” Henry said. “The fact that you would even offer . . . .”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m doing more than offering,” he said stubbornly.

“Very well,” Henry said after a couple of long moments when he studied Tony very thoroughly.

Now that it had been accepted, Tony was torn between slumping with relief and withdrawing the offer, but he didn’t want Henry to know that he’d been uncertain he could convince him, or that he was now worried about what happened next.

“What, um, what do we do now?”

“Take your jacket off,” Henry said.

Tony removed his jacket and tossed it over the arm of the couch. He pressed his fingers against his legs to hide the shaking.

“Relax,” Henry said, but Tony couldn’t relax, not even when Henry put his arm around Tony’s shoulders and pulled him close to press a kiss to the side of his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

“Okay. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Henry gently rolled up Tony’s sleeve. He raised Tony’s arm and pressed his lips to Tony’s wrist.

“You don’t, you know, from the neck?” Tony asked, his mouth dry.

“No,” Henry said. “Too easy to take too much.”

“And kill someone?”

“Or turn them,” Henry said.

“You don’t want to turn anyone?”

“It’s complicated,” Henry said, and then as gently as he could, pierced Tony’s skin with his fangs.

It stung, but no worse than when he’d stuck himself with a needle to shoot up. As soon as the pain struck, though, it was gone, replaced by a pleasant pull that went directly from his wrist to his groin. Henry had assured him that the bite wouldn’t hurt, but he hadn’t prepared him for this.

Tony moaned as he grew hard inside his jeans. He bit his lip and dug his nails into his palm, trying not to react to the feelings the bite created in him. It was useless. He groaned and squirmed on the sofa, then gave in and touched himself through his jeans.

When Tony came back to himself Henry was licking the puncture wounds in his wrist. He watched the bleeding stop and the wounds begin to close under Henry’s ministrations. Tony blushed when Henry raised his head and looked at him.

Henry simply said, “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony nodded.

“You’ll need to get cleaned up,” Henry said matter-of-factly.

Tony fled to the bathroom.

~*~*~*~

Tony wasn’t avoiding Henry, exactly. It was difficult to avoid someone who kept showing up with hot drinks and warm food to make sure you were alright, and who could track you if you decided to move corners. Which Tony might have tried anyway if it wasn’t for Matty. The illness had progressed far enough that even Tony could tell he was sick.

“It’s a natural reaction to being bitten,” Henry had told him. And maybe so, but it had altered Tony’s world view considerably. He was a hustler, in the business of sex, but he rarely got off himself. He didn’t go with a john because he was cute or sexy (and in fact, most johns were exactly the opposite), and therefore there was little chance he’d become aroused. Besides, most johns didn’t care if he got off or not.

Sometimes Tony used his own hand to get off, but his view of sex was a little skewed, so he didn’t crave it that much. The fact that he’d gotten off to Henry’s bite was embarrassing.

Tony was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a moment to notice that Matty wasn’t already standing at their corner when he got there. Tony looked at the McDonalds bag he carried – cheeseburger, small fries, and hot cocoa – and waited for Matty to show up. Two hours later, after turning down several johns and watching a couple of Matty’s regulars drive by Tony was officially worried.

McDonalds bag in hand (cold food was better than no food), Tony went to the last place he knew Matty had been staying. Matty wasn’t there, and no one Tony asked knew where he’d gone – or were saying. Tony stumbled out of the building. He’d broken out in a cold sweat and he shivered when the chill breeze blew across his skin.

Henry moved out of the shadows and Tony gratefully fell into his arms. “Henry! Matty’s missing.”

“He’s not missing,” Henry said gently, touching his hand tenderly to Tony’s face.

“What do you mean?” Tony said, then realization hit. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry said.

“No,” Tony said again. He dropped the bag of cold food and wrapped his arms around Henry. Embarrassment and discomfort forgotten, Tony buried his face in Henry’s neck and cried.

Henry held Tony and let him sob out his grief. He bundled Tony into his BMW and drove to the condo. Henry put Tony in the shower to warm up and clean off, and Tony took the opportunity to hide his tears in the water coursing down his face. Tony dressed in a clean pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt he found in the dresser in the guestroom, and then laid on the couch with his head in Henry’s lap.

Henry combed his fingers through hair that Tony had let grow long enough for him to hide behind. For the first time in what felt like forever, Tony felt younger than his fifteen years, rather than much, much older.

Before sunrise Henry tucked Tony into the bed in the guestroom with a promise to see him when the sun went down. Tony didn’t think he’d fall asleep, but he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. The sun was still shining when Tony woke, and he had a headache from crying so much the night before.

Tony took another shower to help clear the cobwebs from his brain. He felt guilty for wasting the water, but he still felt dirty even though he’d just taken a shower the night before. Tony thought the filth was soul deep, but he tried to scrub it off his skin anyway.

Once he was dressed Tony thought about leaving. Instead he made a cup of tea after snooping through the kitchen, and curled up on the couch to wait for Henry to get up. Tony looked up when he heard Henry unlock his door. He poked his head out to tell Tony that he was going to shower, and suggested he order something to eat.

Tony wasn’t hungry, but he ordered something anyway. The deli down the street had good soups and he figured he could manage to swallow that. Henry picked up his manuscript and sat on the couch with Tony while he ate, and later put in a movie.

The next night Henry had a meeting with his agent.

“Can I go?”

“To the meeting?” Henry said, sounding surprised that Tony had asked. Tony was surprised himself, but for some reason he didn’t want to be left alone while Henry went out.

“No. But I’ll meet you at the restaurant of your choice when I’m done,” Henry offered instead.

Tony picked a place as far from the corner he and Matty had worked as possible, and then tried not to wonder whether Henry was going to stop for a bite to eat before joining him.

A couple nights later Tony did the math and realized that he’d spent five nights at Henry’s condo. Five nights in a row, sleeping in the guestroom like he was an actual guest in Henry’s home, rather than on the sofa as he had been doing.

“I should get going,” Tony told Henry without much conviction.

“Why?”

“I can’t just keep staying here,” Tony said. He was getting way too comfortable.

“Why not?”

“I don’t need your charity!” Tony said with the first real feeling he’d been able to muster since Matty died.

“It’s not charity,” Henry said softly, firmly.

“It is,” Tony insisted. “The food, the clothes, the warm bed, and you get nothing in return.”

“I get your company,” Henry said simply. “I like having you here.”

That statement, spoken so honestly, brought Tony up short. Could vampires get lonely? Still, that couldn’t be enough, could it? It couldn’t be as easy, as simple, as that. Tony shook his head. “I like your company, too, but that can’t be worth everything you’ve done for me.”

“You don’t know,” Henry said slowly, as if he was forcing himself to speak the words, “how comforting it is to have someone with whom you don’t need to hide who, or what, you are.”

Tony thought about that, about 450 years of pretending, of hiding, of _blending in_. Thought about having someone who knew your deepest, darkest secrets and accepted you anyway. That was a gift you couldn’t put a price on.

“Actually, I think I do,” Tony said.

The End


End file.
